Intangibles
by Lawson227
Summary: They have a rule—they're not supposed to profile each other. But there are always exceptions to every rule. There's also a reason Aaron Hotchner's the boss. He's very, very good at what he does. Spoilers through "Minimal Loss." Gen spec beyond


"**The true harvest of my life is intangible - a little star dust caught, a portion of the rainbow I have clutched"**

**~Henry David Thoreau**

I've known for a long time about the two of them. Before either of them, actually.

Their beginnings were rocky. Both struggling with personal demons. She was new and trying to prove herself, he was fighting with the knowledge that he wasn't completely infallible. She would question him, no differently than anyone else might have, but it was her he chose to lash out at. While she's as tough a field agent as I've ever known—completely fearless, almost recklessly so—his attacks hurt her at a fundamental level. Made her feel more of an outsider than she already did.

And as oblivious as he can be with respect to emotional interactions, I suspect he was well aware that he hurt her. Adding another layer of pain and guilt to what he already was already suffering. Fear, too. He knew he wouldn't lose the rest of us. We'd already been through so much together. But she was still an unknown entity. Except, when I thought about it later, she wasn't unknown to him. They shared the curse of being Other. Different from their peers at an age where that sort of individuality can sound a death knell. Wanting to fit in, desperately wanting to please, realizing it for a futile endeavor, and opting to forge their own paths. Truth be known, I think his attacks were a way to draw the one person with whom he felt the most kinship into the sphere of existence he was currently occupying—that of being on the fringes. She didn't really cooperate though, which I think ultimately forced him to take a look at those fringes and realize he didn't belong there either. Not anymore.

Gradually, things changed between them. A thawing in the relations. Then there came a moment—during the Angel Maker case—when he made a breakthrough. He expounded on it in typical, absent-minded fashion—as if that sort of brilliance were commonplace— then, as his explanation wound down, brain clearly racing ahead, solving still more of the riddle, she reached out, gently poked his cheek, and with genuine puzzlement in her voice uttered, "He's so lifelike."

We all smiled then—a rare moment of levity during a typically gruesome case. Less than a year before, that would never have happened. Less than a year later, there was laughter, an exasperated snort, and a true respect between colleagues. There was more, too. Beneath his exasperated expression, I read shy pleasure and beneath her teasing smile, there was clearly relief. Finally, there was friendship.

A few weeks later, there was more. Going into that fundamentalist compound. A crazed leader who had no problem asserting his physical dominance over a woman who had lied to him. An individual who wouldn't have hesitated to outright kill a man in the same position. Profiling him, recognizing that trait, she sacrificed herself.

I can hardly describe the horror of that moment. Listening to one of my team viciously attacked—unable to do anything. Told by her _not_ to do anything. The utter helplessness thrusting me back to his ordeal at the hands of a madman. Look, we know what we sign up for, joining this team. We're dealing with the worst humanity has to offer—day after day, putting ourselves in the position of roadblocks to achieving their twisted goals. But it doesn't make listening or watching one of my team suffer any easier.

It was that experience in Colorado where all the pieces fell into place. Her panic as explosions rocked the building. Calling for him, then the forlornness in her voice as it was Morgan's name she repeated, because he appeared to be the last one out. Then, when she saw him emerge through the backlit haze of dust and smoke, I honestly thought she might faint. The expression on her face was akin to someone who's seen a ghost. And the expression on his—well, let's just say I recognized it. I watched them embrace, amidst the smoke and rubble and devastated lives and I knew then. I worried, too. Not because of protocol—that's inconsequential, considering the individuals involved. No, it was more concern that his guilt would manifest and send him into a downward spiral. And that Benjamin Cyrus would have claimed yet another victim.

But that's when she stepped in again, exhibiting that extraordinary backbone coupled with the empathy and compassion that makes her so damned good at her job. And good for him. She not only saved him from himself, but saved this… thing—this fragile, very new thing that was happening between them.

To this day, neither of them knows I overhead them on the plane. Or rather, I overheard her. Listened to her calm voice reassuring him that it had been her choice and that put in the same position, she'd do it again. Then she thanked him.

On the surface, it was a simple thank you—acknowledgment that he'd heard her and was, for once, choosing not to argue. Not attempting to counter her declaration with typical logic, alternate scenarios, different ways in which the situation might have played out. Beneath, the surface, however, there was a massive wealth of meaning imbued within those two simple words.

There was trust. And from that point on, everything was different between them.

I do wonder how much the rest of the team knows. I know it hasn't escaped their notice that she's yet to accept Mick Rawson's open invitation for… whatever. I think they'd be shocked that I'm aware of Rawson's interest in her. But that's part of my job. Not the exact details, but the intangibles. I know that a character like Rawson would be far too brash and abrasive for her. He would have no idea how to cope with her and she would make mincemeat of him.

I know, too, that for all of his external insecurities, he's more than tough enough for a strong personality such as hers. And that behind the barriers she's so carefully constructed, she's softer and more emotionally fragile than she would ever dare let on. She challenges him intellectually—one of the few people capable of doing so. And he seeks out that challenge.

No, I don't think the rest of the team sees any of that. Not because they don't want to, but because those two, they hold themselves extremely close from an internal standpoint. Individually, they're masters of emotional self-defense; together, they're formidable.

I'm no voyeur, but I will admit to more than a flicker of interest at seeing them away from all of this. The guards down, all artifice and guile stripped away.

Pity it's never likely to happen.

"You understand, Agent Hotchner, these are serious allegations."

Strauss's voice pulled me from the path down which my thoughts had traveled. Considering the costs, weighing the options.

"_Unsubstantiated_ allegations. And you still haven't told me where you received your information."

"Because it's inconsequential to the matter at hand. If it's true, it doesn't matter where the information came from and if it's not true, then the individual who brought the accusations will be dealt with. So—" She paused, her thumb toying along the length of the pen she held. Her posture was relaxed, but she still maintained the air of a cobra preparing to strike. "Are Agents Reid and Prentiss romantically involved?"

I didn't blink. "I haven't seen anything to indicate they're anything more than friends and colleagues."

"So… that's a no?"

We faced off across the impenetrable fortress of her desk. She wasn't a field agent, but she was a very good politician. Probably a good poker player as well, that smooth placid expression giving nothing away. Now that she knew none of us, meaning primarily me, posed a threat to her ambitions, she'd relaxed her vendetta somewhat, but I still wouldn't risk anything of this magnitude on a fragile truce that could dissipate at any given moment.

"Yes, ma'am. That's a no."

Technically, it wasn't a lie. I hadn't _seen_ anything. At least, not what she would consider important.

For the Erin Strausses of the world, it's all about the tangibles. That which you can see and touch and physically manipulate. And in this, she would fail, because it was far beyond anything she could grasp.

For Spencer and Emily, it's all about the intangibles.

I'll do whatever's necessary to protect that. Not because they're part of my team, but because I know—

It's the intangibles that keep you sane.

_~fin_


End file.
